Dead Flowers
by Graveyard of Hearts
Summary: Life can be ruined by the smallest of lies. Vaarla was framed and forced into the killing of her beloved husband. Now, she finds herself in the middle of a war, where she is the destined hero. But, her heart seeks vengeance for the one who played her hand in her husband's death. Can she perform both these duties, or will she let the world burn for her selfish desires? (LucienXOC)


That smell.. What was that awful smell..? Death. Piss. Waste.. Putrid. All of it was putrid. Disgusting. It made her not want to breathe in. Of course, it was hard enough for her to breathe. Every breath the young Imperial drew in, every vile breath, caused her to wince in discomfort and agony.. Her body ached terribly, every cell of her being languished with pain.

Why..? Why does it hurt? Why is it so cold? The sun's rays offered her no warmth at all.

She knew the sun was high in the sky, for she felt it upon her face. Her face was no warmer than the rest of her strained body.

She rolled over, groaning loudly as her aching muscles stretched and screamed like fire. She forced an eye open, her gaze landing on and arched ceiling, moss and chains draping from above. The only source of lighting she could see was from the window, three streaks of dust painted light shadowed by two rusty iron bars..

Despite the grogginess state she was in, her location was known before she even began to look about, both paled eyes open now to the roam around the room..

Four damp stone walls surrounded her, with just enough room for her to walk about. You know, if and when she decided to get up and explore.. She felt closed in, almost as if the walls were slowly moving in on her and suffer her an untimely demise. The only thing that opened the room, even if it was a minute amount, was the iron barred door, slapped right dab in the center of the wall she stared at.

A cell. She was in a cell at the Imperial prison. By the nine.. She was a criminal.. A prisoner, deemed so by the iron shackles adorning her wrists.. Of course the Guard would deem her so.. A felon in her people's eyes.

..A murderer..

She was caught in the act, thus landed her her incarceration.

You probably wouldn't believe her, like the Guard who arrested her, when she said that she was innocent. That is what they all say, as the story usually goes. After all, the damned Guard busted though her door the moment the dark haired Imperial plunged the dagger into her husband's stomach.. Innocent, my ass.. The proof was right there! They saw her kill him! What more did they need?

Of course, the young Imperial did not kill her husband out of murderous spite. No. No no no no.. She loved him dearly. She loved him more than life itself. He was her light in the darkness. Her raft in the churning waters. She was utterly and helplessly devoted to him in all ways, like a woman should be to a man- no. A husband.

Believe me when I say that it killed her to kill him, but it was in self-defense..

He came home, burning with hot anger. He came home, yelling and picking at her, throwing harsh words at her body, bruised by his own hand in that moment..

Whore.

Cheater..

Little Harlot..

He continued his advances, it was _him_ who tried to murder her.. It was _him_ who held the intent to kill. Not her. He would not stop, even once her dagger drew from its sheathe..

You can bet she tried to explain to the Guard what transpired, that it wasn't as it seemed. He would much rather accuse an innocent woman who had her life ahead of her, imprisoning her for extra coin, then look at the situation and _even_ consider it for its truth..

The young Imperial wanted to curl up in her dingy little cell and cry until she withered away to nothing but clothe and bone. But she wouldn't. Or perhaps couldn't.. No matter how hard her chest tightened, how much her eyes burned with dry, unshed tears, she could not weep as she wanted..

All she could do was lay there, lay there and whimper.. As if that would do anything to help...

* * *

How long Vaarla laid there, curled up in her blanket of self pity, was lost to her. The track of time was lost to her, though she could probably look to the sun's rays, see its position.. But she didn't even bother. No. She just laid on the hard, stone floor until she finally decided to move. With shaky arms, she pushed herself from the ground, her body aching even more than she thought it would. A groan escaped her chapped lips, the vocal exercise straining her dry throat.. She has to press her hand to the moldy surface of the wall as she stood, to keep from falling forward face first to the ground. She was unsteady, her legs feeling as if someone were stabbing multiple needles in them over and over and over again. She needed to move about, stretch her worn muscles and work out the aches she felt..

Of course, no sooner did she begin to approach the barred door (to call for a guard so that she could ask for some water. Her mouth and throat was terribly parched, as you know) did she hear the teasing coo from the cell parallel to her own.

"So.. She finally decides to stifle that unnerving whimpering of hers? About bloody time. I was ready to tear my ears off and use them to plug in the holes."

Vaarla pressed herself against the cell door, gripping the bars and peering into the holding cell across from her, to see from whom the snide commentary came from. A dark elf, with an unsettling smirk she could faintly see from where she stood, glared menacingly at her. His voice matched the spitefulness of his eyes.

"Honestly, I'm sure I've never heard of anything more pathetic. I don't think. However, I should of known you were an Imperial. Your entire race is unconditionally pathetic. But.. But you, by far, have to be the most pathetic Imperial ever. Perhaps that is why you're here, locked in your cell. The empire couldn't bare to have you besmirching its good name.."

The dark haired girl merely glared at the elf, growling at him. "You bite your tongue, Elf, or it'll be ripped out and fed to a horker." However, she was no where near as threatening as she would of hoped.

That thought was confirmed the moment harsh chortling sounded from the bell across from her. "Oh, that is rich. How do you plan to do that, when you're all the way over there, and I'm safe here in my cell?" He had a point. "You MUST try that when the guards come at night and sneak into your cell tonight, little Imp. Perhaps it'll give them such a laugh that you'll be treated oh so kindly when they.. Heh.. Well.. I'm sure you can imagine what they'd do."

He paused for a moment, letting the silence fill the air and feed her imagination. "Oh yes, Little Imp.. They will come to you and use you to their hearts content. It's always the pretty ones, oh but.. You won't be pretty for very long. Not down here. Not when they are done with you.." Another pause. "I've gotten quite used to the screaming. I practically relish it. Look forward to it. Especially yours."

Vaarla wanted him to stop talking.. His harsh words and voice not only infuriated her, but also terrified her to absolute no end.. She wanted him to stop, and she tried to tell him.. But her voice was barely a whisper, throat so parched and dry that it irritated her to talk. She practically sounded as if she smoked a pipe for centuries.. He'd laugh at her and keep going..

"Unfortunately, your screams won't fill these halls for too long. Imperial trash like you don't last long. Not when you permeate the good Imperial legacy with your filth. Accidents do tend to happen." He sighed almost lethargically. "You will die in here.. Oh yes, Little Imp. You're going to die in here! Ehehehahahaha-hah!"

Faintly.. Ever so faintly, the sound of a door opening and the metallic clankings of armoured footsteps marrying against stone stairs could be heard. Vaarla looked to the stairs, eyes widening in a moment of panic with her heart racing violently against her breast..

"Do you hear that? Those footsteps? They're coming for you already." He erupted in a fit of laughter, it soon dying down..

Voices echoed down the stairwell, filling the dungeon with hushed yet hurried whispers. Vaarla's heart leapt to her throat the moment dim lighting of a carried torch cast long humanoid shadows along the cobbled stone walls. Though they were simply shadows, harmless projectiles, they still weighed a heavy doom upon her shoulders.. It was harder to breathe, her breath coming out in quick gasps (more out take than intake on the breathing part, I'm afraid), which almost made her even more light-headed than she already was.

Closer. They were getting closer, and, before she could actually see a human body, her back quickly married the stone wall beneath the window. She had no where to hide, thus presently, being as far as she could fro the caged door was the most comforting thing to her then and there.

That is, until an armoured guard stood in front of the door, torch in hand.. He looked.. Surprised to see her there..

Ba-dum.. Ba-dum.. Ba-dum.. Ba-dum..

Several other bodies (two, in fact) came into view, blocking the cell door. Each clad in a complete suit of armour. Stern and angry faces veered in on Vaarla, almost as if her mere presence was the most troublesome thing ever. Perhaps it was.. Who knew?

Of course, that thought was more than confirmed when an authoritative woman snarled in her direction. "What is this prisoner doing in here?" The way she spoke, the way the word prisoner slid from her tongue.. Vaarla was but an insect to this woman. "This cell is supposed to be off limits!" her glare never left the dark haired Imperial's body, almost as if she were blaming her, like it was her fault that the 'off limits' cell was her new home.

Well.. sorry.. I'll just pack these shackles and move.. She couldn't help but think snarkily at the female guard.

The first guard, the one carrying the torch, glanced almost nervously at the woman, raising his free hand in the air in a shrugging motion. "Mix up with the guard. H-happens all the time.. I-" He definitely seemed nervous when speaking to the woman. Not that Vaarla blamed him. She seemed like such a peach..

.. Catch that sarcasm..?

"Doesn't matter at this point.." She said with a sigh, shaking her head. "Let's just get this gate open. We're wasting time just sitting here. Prisoner!" Her voice boomed, making the Imperial jump in surprise. "You stay right there! Try anything funny, and your execution day will arrive early."

Vaarla only nodded. She was going to staaaay riiiight here.. Away from the sharp, pointy things hanging from these people's sides..

When it was apparent that she was going to cooperate, though be it from the threat of their swords, the torch man opened her cell door with the quick twist of a key. The rusty creak of the heavy door swinging open on the hinges made this Gods awful noise that strained the Young Imperial's ears and caused her to visibly wince. The guard entered her cell, a look she could confuse to be almost apologetic painted upon his face, and stood directly in front of her, almost as if he were blocking her from something. I believe it to be safe to say Vaarla's confusion was pretty high..

The man held his hand out, ready to grab at her in case she, as they put it, tried anything funny. "You stay there." It was an order. His voice, though kind, was firm, allowing no room for anything other than obedience. Which was what he was going to get. As he ordered her about (the nerve of some people..), the two other guards entered her small space, making it that much smaller, along with someone who-

An older man, garbed in the finest of clothes and smelled of riches, entered the cell. The dark haired Imperial stared at the greying one, eyes wide and unblinking.. The Emperor.. The girl has only ever seen his Grace once or twice when he addressed his city, always from afar.. To be this close was not the most comforting of situations, even though the man had an air of kindness to him.

It was intimidating, to say the least.

Of course, that feeling only grew as his eyes lingered on her form. She shifted where she stood, pressing her back further against the stone wall when he approached.

Ever so quickly, Vaarla dipped her head, to curtsy him. "S-sire!" she choked out, looking down.

His voice rang in her ear, causing her body to chill. "This is no time for propriety, child." He was right there, so close that she could see his feet poking out from his royal robes.. She could feel his stare, his intensity doing very little to do away with her discomfort of the situation. His hand, large and wrinkled, encased her chin, forcing her to look back up. "Allow me to see your face, child.." He peered at her for what seemed to be an eternity.. "Yes.. Yes I knew that was you.." his voice was like a large bell, ringing in her ear loudly even though he spoke barely above a whisper.

The Imperial girl flicked her eyes back and forth, from guard to the Emperor, to another guard to back to the Emperor once more. The woman stared back, itching to continue whatever it is they were doing. "Sire. Now is not the time to pardon the criminal scum.. We must press on." Oh but the royal ignored her for a moment. His eyes were only on Vaarla.

"H-huh?" Vaarla voiced her confusion, gulping audibly. "Fo-forgive me, Sire.. But.. But I thi-think you have me confused with anoth-"

Uriel Septim, the Emperor, only shook his head. "No. No, I know it's you. I have dreamed of your for many a night.."

Well.. This has just gone from confusing and terrifying to that and just down right.. Awkward.. You don't get how? Some old guy you just met says he dreams about you. Regularly. Wouldn't that be a wee bit weird for you? No? I'm the only one? Okay. Good to know.

His face grew solemn, his grip on her face falling and his eyes turning to the the distance. "Then.. By the stars, it is happening.. Oh, I pray for the strength to get through this.."

Wasn't that a comforting statement?

Vaarla cleared her throat, garnishing his attention once more. It may of been rude, but.. The Imperial was curious, confused, and needed answers. "I.. I'm sorry, Sire.. But.. Bu-but what is going on exactly?" She was a wee bit ballsy, questioning him like that.. Oh well.

Septim's face grew even graver than before, the air surrounding the two of them growing thicker by the second. "A game of cat and mouse, my dear child. With an outcome most inevitable.." Vaarla's confusion only deepened, obviously showing on her face. He answered, and it did nothing but add to the solemnness of the situation. "Assassins attacked my sons, and I am the next to fall to their blade, I fear. My Blades are doing everything they can to ensure my survival, however, destiny has other plans for me this night.." Vaarla tilted her head. "We are fleeing the city, along an escape route not even my castle guard know of."

The girl only stared at her Emperor, brows furrowed as she looked around. If that were the case, why was he there? This cell held-

Unless..

"The entrance to this escape route is here in your cell. It seems the Gods have planned this to be so, as you are here the day my escape must commence.. So that we may meet. You, my child, will have an intricate role in the span of history yet to play out. The stories will know of your name for many years to come, as the Gods hold their hands upon your head."

He looked as if he were to say more, sounding almost like One of those Talos worshipers who stood in the cities and spouted the gospels of his lordship. It was insane. "Sooo.. You say that it is destiny that put me here?" He nodded. "Some divine intervention?" Another nod. "No. No. That is utter ridiculous. I will not be some tool for the Gods when they can very well carry out their plans with someone else. My husband is dead. That is why I'm here. Not because a god deemed it so. I'll walk my own path, Gods be damned!"

Despite her wee outburst, despite the fact that it wasn't that loud and its rudeness, Septim merely smiled softly at her. Almost as if he were a parent attempting to calm an angry child. "Aye, child. As do we all. Fate can be a tricky thing. No matter how hard we try, it always finds a way to come back to us. We can avoid it for so long, especially when it has been laid before us by the divines who breathe us our very life."

Before Vaarla could even argue against him, the female Blade spoke up, irritation and urgency lacing her voice. "Sir," she said, quickly pressing in a stone that, in turn, caused a shifting wall to slide open slowly. An awful noise sounded in the air, dust shifting and polluting the air with its gravel until a pathway was fully revealed. "We must press forward."

Septim nodded, before turning to Vaarla. "Your name, my dear? What shall I call you?"

Vaarla blinked in surprise before clearing her throat. "Vaarla Lyonsvale, Sire."

"Ah.. Yes.. I have heard of you.. Fear not, your deeds will be forgiven, as you will not be remembered for what you may have done.. Vaarla.. Will you come with us?"

She wasn't even given the chance to answer as, one by one, Blade members and the Emperor filed into the space. The last guard paused, looking to Vaarla. "Seems like today is your lucky day, girl. Stay out of our way, or your freedom will be short lived."

She swallowed but nodded all the same to his disappearing form. She decide to follow before they got too far ahead.

After all. She was destined..

* * *

Scout ahead, she said.. Good for the Empire, she said. If it weren't for Captain Renault's -the only other female in the vicinity- insistence that Vaarla make herself useful if her presence was to be put up with, then the young Imperial wouldn't be in this situation..

We all know what she actually meant.. The little prisoner girl will be a good distraction for the bad guys. You know. If we run into them and they get the jump on us.

You wanna know what was hilarious?

Vaarla was jumped on the moment she stepped down the small staircase in that first room. A large man in long, drapey robes, which the girl presumed to be a dark maroon (she honestly couldn't tell very well. The lighting was horrendous! Of course, in that moment, Vaarla didn't really care about the colour..), and conjured, spiked armour had her pinned to the ground. His fingers curled around her neck, tightening instantly and cutting off her air supply. His free hand conjured up a curved dagger.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't even speak! Not even a gasp. Noise was a mystery to her mouth in that moment. Her mouth hung open, gaping for air, an effort in vain.. In an instant, despite her growing lightheadedness and fading vision, she felt a growing warmth in her palm.. Drool bubbled from her mouth, leaking down the corner of her mouth as she raised her hand to grasp at his face, or more specifically, the slab of armour that protected his face. That warmth grew and grew.. he could feel her hand growing in heat, and his eyes widened. His dagger brought down on her face the moment a powerful ball of fire exploded against his own.. The metal armour covering his face melted away and disappearing into the air..

The moment the flame erupted from the Imperial's hand, his own wavered, and, instead of plunging into her face, the curve of the dagger sliced deeply into her left cheek. The metal blade clanged onto the stone before it fell from his grasp and shimmered out of existence.

The man flew back, screaming and rolling around on the ground. His hands clenched at his face, strangled cries flying from his throat. "Gaaaaah! oh Gods.. It buuurns! It burns!" The man's screams could be heard over Vaarla's coughing and gasping for breath. She was perched on her side, clenching the base of her throat with her hand. Her lungs were on fire, aching for air..

It wasn't long before she was surrounded by three other men, all clad in the same garb as the one she just burned..

"Find the Emperor!" one barked, eyes glaring in on her. The glint of metal shone, a blade dipping down and pointing at her face. However.. A loud yell sounded, stealing his attention from Vaarla..

Renault was barreling towards him and Vaarla, suffering several blows from the two other men before she was just mere inches from the two. Her curved katana was drawn, swung at Vaarla's assailant.

Blades were interlocked with one another, sparks flying and metal clanging. His and Renault's gazes glued to one another, glaring at each other in an unwavering stare battle.

Renault unleashed a furious war cry, swinging her sword around with skill unmatched, though it was parried by the man's own blade. He did stumble under the brute force of her arm, which was taken advantage of. With her sword, she whacked it against his several times to keep him off balance.

Vaarla scrambled to get out of the way, crawling to the side, but that didn't stop the man from tripping over her body. That hurt like hell, but probably not as much as it did for him. After all.. She wasn't the one who ended up with Renault's blade sliced through his chest..

Sadly, that victory was short lived. The moment the man's armour disappeared, the disgusting sound of blade piercing flesh filled the air once more. A strangled choke sounded from Renault, blood dribbling from her mouth and.. And with a blade shoved straight through her neck. She stared at the tip of the blade, watching as it dripped crimson with her very life force, befor looking right at Vaarla.. In her eyes was a look no person, man or woman, in her position should have..

Fear, defeat, and failure...

The blade was harshly pulled from her neck, her body pushed to the ground with a thud. Her sword clattered to the ground, blood splattering the ground from the blade. Several droplets painted at her face..

"Captain!" a voice could barely be heard.. Though it was muffled to the girl's ears.

"Your turn, you little bitch.." someone snarled.

Vaarla looked to see the man she burned, his face visible and looking as though it could fall off at any moment.. Boils and blisters, frayed skin, was what she saw. Most of his face looked burnt to a crisp and flaking off.. And the smell.. Oh Gods, the smell was absolutely vile. Vaarla had to keep from emptying her stomach's contents, though it wasn't that full in the first place, onto his shoes..

He was about to strike a killing blow to the girl, but another fiery ball was shot at him. Another scream echoed the room, body writhing and convulsing violently as Vaarla pushed herself from the ground, arms shaking.. She didn't even give him time to recover.. A continuous burst of fire erupted from her curled fingertips. Her palm darkened from the hearth she held, its flames licking at her hand. It burned, searing pain shooting up her arm. The girl screamed, clenching her wrist in an attempt to keep her hand which shot the fire steady..

She felt her energy fade to nothing, the flame dying away to nothing but a dim ember in her hand, extinguished by her disputed magicka. However, the man had died well before her magic ran out.. Burnt to a crisp, sizzling and blood boiling from erupted sores. Dark smoke steamed from the body, swirling and polluting the air..

Vaarla stared at the body, bile rising up her throat. She had killed a man, ruthlessly so.. She was going to be sick..

A hand laid upon her shoulder, thus making the girl jump and veer.. at the Emperor.. He had startled her.. However, it seemed as though there was not a scratch on him. He had not been hurt. The two other men, assassins he said, were dead.

"Are you well, little one?" He questioned, worry taking over his features. Vaarla nodded. "Good.." His brows then furrowed as he stared at her, more specifically her face. "You're hurt."

Instinctively, the brunette cupped her palm to her left cheek and winced, quickly drawing her hand from her face. Her palm glistened with crimson blood. Her hand shook, returning to her cheek. Her fingers glazed along the welting cut, stinging as she touched the open wound. Even if she healed it with magic, it would still scar, marring her pretty features.

"It's just a scratch," she assured, closing her eyes to concentrate. Her magicka hadn't recovered even a fraction of what it was, not even enough to fully close the wound. Her fingertips began to glow a light blue. Slowly, and rather painfully, the wound began to seal, only enough to staunch the bleeding. It wasn't the best patch up.. But it was all she could do in that moment.

Septim looked as if he were to argue, but one of his remaining Blades stepped forward. "Sire. We must make haste."

Uriel turned to the man, nodding, before his gaze lingered on Vaarla once more. "My dear girl. I am afraid that you and I must go separate ways at this point. However, I feel as though that our paths will cross once more before this is over."

"Wait.. I can't go with you?" Her voice shook, bloodied hands gripping at the skirt of his royal garb. "Why?"

Uriel simply smiled at her, a fatherly smile. "Fear not. The Gods have this planned.."

With that, she was alone, sitting on the ground. She was alone, alone with no hope of moving forward, and alone with no desire to go back.


End file.
